


The Wheel is ever turning (I will save you if I can)

by BardicRaven



Series: Magick in Flight [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Choices, Different Choices, Different Life Choices, Do-Over, F/M, Family, Family Dynamics, Gen, Marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/pseuds/BardicRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if we could re-write our story? What would happen then?</p><p>AU for the story so far. Starts with Merlyn in the alley, immediately after Oliver talks him out of killing Brick. He would give anything, anything for a second chance.</p><p>To do things differently.</p><p>To keep his heart.</p><p>To keep his sons.</p><p>To keep his wife alive.</p><p>By a miracle of magick, he gets that second chance.</p><p>Now the Question is... what will he do with it?</p><p>
  <strong>Update - 09-07-15 - ~2400words</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What if we could do it all over again?

The endless day was done. His son-of-the-heart returned to him by a miracle Merlyn was quite sure he was not worthy to receive.

He'd spared Brick for him, tho' he wondered at the sanity of it. No matter, the boy would learn through pain, as he had.

In the meantime, he thought of what he had said to Oliver. The truth, bitter and harsh. That he would give anything for a second chance, to do things differently. To turn back time to before his Rebecca had died, before he'd sold his heart away as a useless thing, before....

Before everything changed.

Before he changed.

Somewhere, that plea was heard. Somewhere, a man sat spinning at a giant wheel, the quiet whir the only sound in the room. As the wool flowed through his fingers, endlessly and inevitably turning itself from raw fiber to smooth yarn, he sat, peaceful, or at least as peaceful as he ever got.

This man had his own shadows, his own regrets. Perhaps that is why he heard that call.

Perhaps that is why the wheel suddenly stilled, the man getting up, walking to the window, putting a hand against the glass, cold in the night.

Perhaps that is why he turned, made a decision, disappeared in a cloud of colored smoke.

Perhaps.

>>>\----------->

“So what would you give me, dearie, for a second chance?” Merlyn startled, reaching for bow and arrow with a grace borne of habit, nocking a black-fletched arrow, the broadhead glinting in the light of the alley as it pointed unerringly at the source of the sound.

“There's no need for that. I'm only here to offer a deal, the chance to get your heart's desire.” A man walked toward him, arms spread wide, backlit by the lights of the alley, leaving him in shadow, his voice the only measure of his form.

“You can't give me what I desire.” Despair and threat mingled equally in Merlyn's voice.

“I wouldn't be so sure of that, dearie. But no matter.” He walked up to Merlyn, gaining form and color as he did so, to reveal a man of seemingly middle years, with eyes that spoke of ageless pain. He was short, with grey-shot brown hair that hung down to his shoulders. If taken at face-value, not a very intimidating package, but Merlyn had not gotten where he had in life by taking anyone or anything at face value. There was something more about this man – something hidden to the eye, but ignored at your peril.

The stranger held out his hand, made a gesture over it with the other, to produce a small snowglobe of what looked suspiciously like Starling City, dark and somber under the storm of snow.

“So what price would you pay me for the chance to remake your world?” The stranger held his gaze, telling him with his eyes he spoke the truth, that as impossible as it might seem, he believed that he could do what he said.

The man looked down, briefly, made a gesture, and the globe changed, the interior no longer dark, but bright and sunny, the snow now reflecting the glory of the Sun in a thousand little spangles.

He looked back up at Merlyn, smiled a small smile.

Then, in the space of that moment, Merlyn believed it too.

“Anything.” he breathed. For the first time in longer than he could, dared, to remember, something that felt suspiciously like hope flared in his breast.

The stranger smiled. “You archers have an amusing lack of self-preservation.” The stranger shook his head at Merlyn's confused glance. “Never mind.”

“So. What price for a world remade? A chance to do it all again, expect for the bits that you don't want.”

“What price?” he mused, pacing up and down the dark alleyway.

The stranger abruptly ceased his pacing, came up to him, spoke confidentially.

"For magick of this level, there should be a three-fold price." He nodded. "Yes, that will do nicely."

He walked a few steps away, made a decision, turned. "Very well. My price is this: first, that you will remember this moment and all the ones that led up to it. Helpful, where and when you'll be going, but harder and harsher than you may expect."

“Second, that you tell me your True Love's name.” At Merlyn's uncomprehending stare, the stranger scoffed. “Oh, don't give me that. You only destroy the world for the ones you love that much.”

“Third,” he came back to Merlyn, quick steps down the alley, channelling his power as he came, so that by the time he reached Merlyn, he was the Dark One in truth, “I will come to you in your future, and ask you for a favor that only you can provide. You will not say no.”

He spread his hands. “That’s the deal, dearie. Do you accept?”

They did not call him the Magician for nothing. While it was a power he did not immediately recognize, he recognized it as power, and if the man were truly able to offer what he said he could, then any price was not too high to pay.

“Yes.”

“Sobeit.” He looked deep in Merlyn's eyes, Merlyn's soul. “Tell me,” he said softly. “What was her name?”

“Rebecca.” Merlyn closed his eyes in pain. “Her name was Rebecca.”

>>>\----------->


	2. Turning the Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlyn is given his chance and begins his Journey. His first mission - the most important: save his wife.

O>>>\----------->

“Yes,” the man said softly, releasing him, walking a few paces away to give him room. “I can see she snared your heart.” He cocked his head. “Well named.”

He turned, faced Merlyn. “So. You are ready?”

“Yes.”

The man nodded. “Know this. It is a deal I will only do once. Whatever happens this time is yours to deal with, pain or pleasure.”

Merlyn nodded understanding, acceptance.

“Very well, dearie. I would wish you good luck, but it's not luck that will change your world. It's you. Your Will. Your desire.” He looked away for a moment. “I will wish you strength. Courage.”

“Who are you?” Merlyn asked, hearing the regret, the pain, in the man's voice.

The man shook his head. “Never mind, dearie. Just someone who's made his own mistakes in life.”

“How will I know you?”

The man laughed, a high-pitched giggle with no warmth to it. “Oh, you'll know me, dearie. But if it's a name you're looking for, you may call me Gold.” He shrugged. “It's true enough."

"Now. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Sobeit."

And the world changed.

>>>\----------->

He awoke in his own bed. The bed that he had shared with his beloved Rebecca. He turned over, saw her there next to him. Couldn't help himself, reached out, held her close.

Sleepily, she murmurred at him. He knew he should let her sleep, that for her, there was no loss, no added blessing to this morning beyond any other mornings, but he just couldn't.

Not today. Not when she was here, alive, after so many, too many, years of loss.

He kissed her awake, showed her with his body just how much this day meant to him.

"Malcolm!" she protested, laughing. "What's with you this morning?"

He shook his head. "What? Can't a man show his wife how much he loves her?"

She shrugged underneath him, the motion stirring his body all over again. "He can. You just... haven't been lately."

He kissed her. "Well, let's just say I had a... revelation recently." He turned his attention to her neck, trailing kisses down it until she fended him off with one hand.

"Malcolm, you know I have to get ready for the clinic." She reached up, gave him a quick peck on the cheek before scooting out from under him and heading for the bathroom, grabbing clothes on the way. "Take a rain-check?"

"What's today's date?" he asked suddenly, over the sound of the shower.

"The 29th. Why?" she called back.

His heart grew cold. It was beginning. He'd not asked, but he'd hoped that he might have a little time with Rebecca first, before. Before he had to figure out what would save her, save him, from their fate.

Apparently God, or Gold, was not that kind. Malcolm put on the mask, hid his fear behind words that were far lighter than his fears.

"No reason. But I think I'll come in with you today."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"I want to."

A wet head appeared around the shower curtain. "Malcolm," she said exasperatedly, "we've discussed this. I know the clinic isn't in the best part of town, but you don't get to wrap me in cotton-wool and protect me from the world." The head went back in, the water back on. “So, no.”

He pressed his lips together. Fine. He wouldn't go in with her.

That didn't mean he wouldn't follow her.

There was far too much at stake. His heart. His world. The lives of over five-hundred people and the attendant miseries that came with that much death.

And it had all started from one mistake. One error of omission that he would do anything, had done everything, risked everything, to change.

A mistake that he was not going to allow to happen again.

>>>\----------->

He called into the office, cancelled everything he could, moved everything he couldn't. One of the advantages to being the C.E.O. of a major corporation, he could do things like that, and no-one would question it.

Except perhaps Rebecca, but she was not going to know about it.

He took the handgun that he'd bought years before – he'd been a wealthy man for a long time, even tho' he'd not been hardened to death the way the League had made him – loaded it, brought it with him, along with a few other tricks and tools he pulled out of thin air, or at least the corners of his house. He would do his best to solve this without killing, but if it came to it, he would kill the man in a heartbeat.

The advantages of knowing how the story went – you knew what happened if you made the same decisions you made before.

So mercy wasn't an option. At least not one he would consider.

No. Brick would go to prison. Or the morgue. He really didn't care which.

And Rebecca, and the countless others murdered by this person over the years, would be safe.

>>>\----------->

_Far away, in another place and time, a man sat at a giant wheel, letting his mind drift as he spun._

_Hoping, praying that the deal would be honored, could be honored._

_It was simply a matter of time, now._

_And it wasn't like he didn't have time to spend._

_Belle had driven him out._

_Driven him home._

_Home to a castle that never was home, still less so now._

_Now that his True Love wasn't there to share it with him, brighten its dark corners with her light and love._

_He wondered if she would ever share it with him again._

_He hoped so, in the still, small part of his heart he allowed to think of such things._

_But that was for later._

_For now, he spun._

O>>>\----------->

Merlyn drove to the Glades, left the car under a glamour that would show it to anyone else's eyes as a wreck already stripped. He showed no fear of the neighborhood – he didn't need to. Gold was right – he remembered everything, or at least enough.

Enough to keep him safe.

Enough to keep Rebecca safe.

He settled into the shadows to wait.

O>>>\----------->

His patience was rewarded hours later, when he saw a younger version of Brick heading toward the clinic. He moved, stretched muscles into action in one fluid ripple of movement, then slipped closer. He'd not touch Brick until the young man had made his move – he didn't want there to be any possibility of him walking away a free man, to find his prey another day.

Brick merely looked in the window, nodded to himself, then walked away. Merlyn recognized the look – the predator had chosen its prey.

But then, so had he.

He settled again. Not yet, but soon.

O>>>\----------->

Evening now, and time for the clinic to close for the night. Merlyn knew Rebecca was fond of staying late – to see just one more patient, to fill out just one more grant request, to help just one more person.

No matter what he'd ever said to her, about who she was and where she worked, she'd never listened to him.

Once, it had proven fatal. It would not be so again.

O>>>\----------->

Rebecca finally left the clinic when night had fallen, dark and deep. She'd locked the door, turned, not taken more than a few steps outside the door when Brick struck.

He grabbed her, pulled her off-balance, pulled out a gun as she cried out in pain and fear.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Merlyn said, taking all the pain and anger and loss of those twenty years of hell, and channelling it into those eight words, making them heavy and full of threat.

Brick looked up, saw what Merlyn wanted him to see, was foolish enough to ignore what his eyes told him. “Yeah? Or what?”

Merlyn just smiled, and what was in it and what was not gave Brick pause, for just a moment. And then the moment passed and he sneered. “She's mine. Get yer own.”

“You're wrong. She's mine.” And Merlyn moved, swift as thought, and before Brick knew what had happened, the predator had become the prey. Merlyn's arm across his throat, choking the life from him. He dropped Rebecca as he fought to pull the arm free so he could breathe.

“Go. Call the police.” And in a brief flash across his mind, Merlyn admired his wife as she pulled herself together and hurried back inside the clinic to make the call, before pulling himself back to the task at hand. Brick sagged in his arms as consciousness fled.

Merlyn swiftly bound and gagged him before dumping him in front of the clinic and slipping into the shadows once more. He waited until the police were there, taking Brick off and going inside to get his wife's statement, before he left.

If he hurried, he should be able to get home before Rebecca did. As much as he wanted to stay, to take her in his arms and hold her, reassure them both that she was okay, he knew that letting her know who her rescuer had been would bring trouble and questions he did not want to have to answer.

Ever.

So he would greet her at home, and they would go into their bed and she would tell him everything that had happened and he would look appropriately shocked, and never let on that he had known what was going to happen and had been the one to change things.

And life would go on.

What was one more secret in a life that was built on them? At least now, he could keep his secrets in peace.

O>>>\----------->

Luck was with him. He was able to slip away to where he'd left his car, found it safe and in as many pieces as he'd left it hours before, and get home before Rebecca did.

He was in Tommy's room, playing with his son, sharing those stolen moments when the boy was supposed to be asleep, grateful beyond words that these moments would be able to happen for years to come, when he heard the sound of the door opening.

"Malcolm?" rang up the stairs.

"Just a moment, darling." he called back, before turning back to his son. "Now, you get to sleep. And not a word, or you'll get both of us in trouble. Understand?" He chucked his son under the chin as the boy looked at him wide-eyed, nodding silently before sliding down under the covers and closing his eyes for sleep.

Merlyn patted his son's hand where it lay on top of the covers and then swiftly hurried from the room, his secrets for to keep.

He hurried down the stairs to meet his wife. She was looking remarkably composed for what had happened that evening. Covering, he suspected. It had been no secret between them that he didn't approve of her working in the Glades - felt it was too dangerous for too little reward.

And yes, if he had been the man he used to be, then her announcement tonight would have been the end of her participation in the clinic.

But he wasn't. And while he knew that the people of the Glades were not all angels, he was willing to admit, at least to himself, that they weren't all devils either.

The worst of them had been removed tonight.

It would only get better from here.

He had a plan that would help both the Glades and his wife, but that was for another day. For now, he hurried down the stairs to her and hugged her tight.

"How was your day, sweetheart?" A little over-the-top, perhaps, but right now, he didn't care. He was simply grateful that she was here, alive, and in his arms.

And that while he'd have to pretend, at least it wasn't that he was all right, while his world was falling apart. Against that, he could bear anything.

Rebecca was silent for a long time, simply returning his hug with an equal passion, a very slight trembling of her body the only sign that anything unusual had happened. "It was... interesting." She looked up at him. "You were right."

"About what?" He released her, doing his best to keep his voice light, as if he didn't already know the answer to her question.

"Something happened at the clinic today." She rushed on, before he could do more than draw a breath to answer her. "I'm only telling you this because I know you'll hear about it in the news tomorrow. So, please, don't get upset. It doesn't change anything."

"Okay," he said levelly.

"Someone attacked me when I was coming out of the clinic tonight."

"My God! Are you all right?" He put on a convincing show of concern, despite knowing exactly what had happened.

"Yes, thankfully. You'll never believe this, but someone came out of the shadows and saved me. Just like in one of those novels you tease me for reading." She reached up, caressed his jawline fondly. He teased her incessantly about the romance novels that were her favorite bed-time fare.

"You got lucky." He looked down at his wife with a worried expression, only some of which was faked. "You could have been killed."

She shrugged and walked away towards the stairs, her high heels clicking across the marble of the foyer. She turned back to him, head held high.

"But I wasn't."

"This time."

She shook her head angrily, one hand on the newel-post to balance herself as she put one foot on the stairs, getting ready to go up. "Let's not start this again, Malcolm."

"I wasn't going to.” He crossed over to her as she made a sound of disbelief. “But I have been thinking. And I have a plan that should satisfy both of us."

Rebecca opened her mouth to say something and he laid a gentle finger across her lips. "Tomorrow. Tonight, I want us to go upstairs and make love and just be happy you're all right."

She nodded and took his hand and together they walked up the stairs to their suite.

Together. A thing he never would have imagined could be true again.

O>>>\----------->

**Author's Note:**

> #####  [YouTube Playlist - Grist: The Wheel is ever turning (I will save you if I can)](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL99Djnb8oDmiQZBp4Ha3RodqHqlQb9EGT)
> 
> ##### Started because John Barrowman is a brilliant actor and the pain on his face as he-as-Malcolm pleads with Oliver touched my heart.
> 
> ##### I had to give him his chance.
> 
> ##### So here it is.
> 
> ##### As ever, if you enjoy this story, please comment, leave a kudo, share on social media, and all the rest of that love. It helps the connection with the Muse(s). It really does.
> 
> ##### -B
> 
> :>O


End file.
